So, when the last two sessions incorporated biblical references on abstinence and I could see Rayna visibly freeze at the topic, I started doing some thinking; some soul searching. So much of our relationship has involved inappropriate sexual communication: our anxiety of losing ourselves in each other, our apprehensions of falling in love, our expressions of anger and betrayal, and our articulation of fear.
Since our blow up after the Brian Thompson debacle, I’ve begun to feel a bit of guilt for having communicated my anger for her not reciting three single words to me. And what’s more incredulous than my command of her speaking them is I knew she’d felt them. I knew Rayna loved me when I was manipulating her to verbalize it. At the time, I was feeling inept and not in control of a piece of my life that I believed to be important to me. I desecrated her body to make me feel good about the ability to manipulate her because again, I knew Rayna loved me when I was doing it.
I also knew that she ended up in Thompson’s arms that evening because of my betrayal of trust when I’d kissed Dawn. A kiss that I engaged in because I needed to the employ the control I didn’t feel I had with Rayna. I was able to identify through that meaningless act with Dawn that I was able to exert a control I wanted with Rayna, someone who is scarred from love having failed her previously.
I’m a hustler, an entrepreneur several times over, and in multiple arenas. I’ve been some of these things since before I was a legal adult. Control is in my blood, a keen piece of my governing and overall existence.
Love is not control. Love is willfully given and received. Love does not rush people who are broken. It’s patient and kind and long suffering. I learned this through a series of premarital counseling sessions.
I’ve already committed to waiting for Rayna, so taking it a step further and for just a few weeks would prove challenging, but sacrificial just the same. I want to remove the physical expressions, hopefully detox her of the messages I’ve fed to her with my callous behaviors.
Rayna can’t chew on too many things at one time. She needs space to think and deliberate, unlike me. I understand that I’m dealing with an embattled woman and need to be satisfied that she comes into what I’m proposing as a lifetime offering. I’d be remiss if I don’t consider the shit I’ve hidden from her. She’s been serious and dedicated to the Christian walk, and while I’m not quite with her on it, I want to support her in whatever manner possible. That’s how much I love her.
And that brings me here…
“Let’s pledge abstinence until we’re married. How long is that?” I glance over to Pastor Edmondson, though I know the answer. I’ve given this hours, days, and weeks of consideration.
Before he can answer I hear Rayna caution, “Azmir.” She licks her lips as though she’s salivating at the mention of sex. She gives cursory glances to the pastor and his wife before returning her gaze to me. “Are you…don’t you want to discuss this privately? I don’t want you to feel pressure…you’ve already acquiesced to so much…being at the sessions.”
Her eyes are wide and filled with anxiety and inquisition. I’ve thrown a curve ball, though it’s not my intent. Shit, if she still wants to fuck up until the wedding day, I’ll be down. But I know Rayna; she needs to feel that she’s followed every instruction to the “T” when trying to do the right thing. She’s been working on herself since losing Michelle and has been pretty consistent with it.
“I’ve given it some thought and think that more than anything, it’ll be a therapeutic exercise for us,” I offer.
“It would be for six weeks,” Pastor Edmonson quickly adds.
The room goes quiet. Rayna’s not happy. Her eyes dance into the distance as she processes all that this means. I don’t want her to feel ambushed.
I’m panicking now. I don’t like seeing her jarred. I’ve entertained this therapy shit because of my support of her, but I’m still a very introspective thinker and planner. I’m quickly deciding on just how divulging I’ll be with what I’m about say.
“Rayna,” I call out impatiently. Her beautiful irises shoot over to me tentatively.